


Angel

by lomelindi



Category: Robin Hood (BBC 2006)
Genre: season 2 finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-07
Updated: 2016-03-07
Packaged: 2018-05-25 09:35:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6189349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lomelindi/pseuds/lomelindi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sir Guy reacts to his actions in the Holy Land.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Angel

**Author's Note:**

> Short little something to try to start writing again. I'm working through the BBC Robin Hood series on Netflix and I love the complexity of Sir Guy of Gisborne. I so wanted him to be good...
> 
> I do not own anything associated with Robin Hood or the characters in this terribly short story...just thinking about things that don't matter to escape the difficult things in real life that I can't change. (Bless the anonymity of the internet!)

Alone. He was so alone.

The council of knights continued on - the sheriff’s absurd proclamations accenting the general enthusiastic clamor in the room. He sat at his right side, a black hood over his head, a traitorous ring on his finger, caught in a vacuum of indistinguishable echoes. The chance he would be called upon did not concern him. The others offered opinions, made decisions. He had only ever been a weapon.

“Not a very good one, either,” the sheriff informed him one day. “Seduced by a woman, clouded by moments of humanity - how can you stomach yourself, Gisborne?”

 

Five years of rage burned under his skin until one day he could take it no longer. He acted out - releasing the pent-up terror that had finally outgrew the space in his heart - attacking the catalyst for the inevitable flood of emotions.

His sword ripped through the flesh of the only one he had ever loved.

There was a moment of glorious, blinding relief. Without this weight, he felt a freedom he had not known since childhood. And with this freedom came possibility…of abandoning the sheriff’s reign of terror, of walking down a new path of goodness encouraged by the constant presence of…

He looked down at the hilt of his sword. His eyes followed the blade until it met the blood-soaked white dress of Marian.

His body was incapable of movement. His mind, incapable of thought. A voice blindly told him what to do. And he followed. Back onto the horse. Back to the ship that would return the two to a country he could no longer feel was his home. 

Back to a living hell.

 

The council continued. A room filled with men of dark purpose and hearts as black as the cloaks they wore. He silently stood, and the voices grew quiet.

“Gisborne? Gisborne, where are you going?”

But he could no longer hear the voice of the devil. 

He walked slowly out of the room, past confused faces and open accusations, through the door and straight out of the castle. He paid the peasants as little notice as the table of nobles he had left. Through the gate and away from Nottingham - his only thought was moving one foot forward and then another. 

Bringing him deep within the forest, he followed a unknown path. The air was chilled, and the ground was covered with a mist made iridescent by the full moon. He stopped now - suddenly aware of another soul as broken as he. Lifting his head, his eyes strained to focus. 

He did not move as the figure advanced even as the sword pierced clean through his heart.

The hunter, panting from the exertion of the kill, looked into his prey with piercing eyes.

“She was my wife.”

He felt the pull of blessed freedom once again, speaking of grace with his final breath.

“She was my…angel.”


End file.
